


Pining is a Gateway Drug

by canonmerlinisatwink



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Office AU, idk what im doing help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonmerlinisatwink/pseuds/canonmerlinisatwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Well,</i> Arthur thinks to himself as he slumps in his office following this epiphany, feeling for all the world like a schoolgirl finding out the horrors of crushing on their year’s most popular bloke and not having the slightest chance at getting him to ask her out for the school dance, <i>on the bright side, you could’ve been arse-over-tit for that friendly intern from Accounting instead.</i></p><p>Arthur is a stuck up, prattish department manager who's decidedly not in love with Merlin Emrys, Morgana's new favourite, baby-faced recruit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pining is a Gateway Drug

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old thing I had on file that I decided to revisit and finish so I could FINALLY post some Merthur fic y AY.

 

It’s a dull October afternoon, the autumn chill creeping over the atmosphere like a dark, wet cloud. Arthur thinks it’s absolutely fitting, what with Morgana chewing his arse out over the latest mishap in the finance department’s security software, so he stands out there in the rooftop freezing his bollocks off and lighting a cigarette to try and fight off the wave of stress threatening to give him a blinding headache.

 

Nobody comes to the rooftop this time of day, which makes it Arthur’s usual haunt whenever he feels like he’s on the brink. Being away from the sounds of inane chatter and relentless typing is utter, blessed relief, and Arthur’s just starting to drift off into a relaxed reverie when the door to the rooftop bursts open, startling him out of it.

 

He jerks where he stands, almost dropping his cigarette in surprise, and turns to see a tall, lanky, dark-haired boy standing in the middle of the concrete space, his hands tucked in his overcoat as he surveys the open air around him. Arthur’s brow furrows at that. What’s a kid like him doing, poking around a business centre at this time of day?

 

The boy catches him looking and offers him a wide, bumbling grin, striding over to where Arthur is with a friendly air about him. “Hey, mate. Bit drafty out here, isn’t it?”

 

Arthur doesn’t answer and instead raises an eyebrow at the casual attempt at a conversation. The kid doesn’t seem to notice, however, and instead proceeds to root around his pockets for something seemingly important. He lets out a small “aha!” sound after a moment, and pulls out a pack of Dunhill, the box opened and already missing a considerable number of sticks. Arthur sputters indignantly as he watches the boy pull out a cigarette and stick it between his lips with a casual, practiced ease.

 

“You got a light?” The kid asks expectantly, like a minor smoking in front of an adult is a normal, tolerable occurrence, and Arthur’s supposed to just actually _let him do it._ Bloody hell, what if he’s one of his co-worker’s sons? What if he’s some higher-up’s spoiled brat of a child and they catch Arthur hanging out with him on the rooftop teaching the kid how to make smoke holes with cheap cigarettes?

 

Arthur’s gonna get himself sacked if he doesn’t do something about this, and quick.

 

“Your mother knows you’re here?” He snaps, pulling out the cigarette from the kids lips unceremoniously. The boy squawks at that, one hand flailing around to grab at the stick, but Arthur is quicker. He steps backwards and out of reach, throwing the cigarette down on the ground and crushing it under his boot before the boy could stop him.

 

“Hey!” The kid yells indignantly, and Arthur rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest while giving him a challenging glare.

 

“Your mother would have a fit if she sees you smoking,” Arthur says, tilting his chin up and daring the boy to fight him for it.

 

But he’s just standing there, arms clenched at his sides and looking quite incensed as he glares daggers through Arthur’s skull. “My mum wouldn’t care,” he grinds out after a moment.

 

Arthur snorts disbelievingly, but the kid just presses on, a muscle twitching in his jaw: “She really wouldn’t, seeing as I’ve moved out of her house _six bloody years ago._ ”

 

At Arthur’s confused look, the boy lets out a loud groan of impatience and shakes his head like he thinks Arthur is utterly stupid. “I’m twenty-five years old, you pillock!”

 

And with that single, heartfelt declaration, he turns on his heel and storms out of the rooftop, slamming the metal door behind him and leaving Arthur standing there with a gobsmacked expression plastered across his features.

 

\--

 

Turns out the kid’s saying the truth, as Arthur later finds out when Morgana corners him in his office, said bloke in tow and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than standing in front of Arthur’s desk like some bloody show horse. But Morgana ignores his mutinous look and levels Arthur with a quelling expression, handing him a bunch of papers and telling him that the boy—whose name is Merlin, apparently—is the newest addition to his team, and that Arthur would find him quite invaluable, considering the current fiasco going on with the finance department’s accounts database.

 

She leaves Arthur and Merlin to stare at each other with mulish expressions on their faces, and it takes a few minutes of awkward silence before Arthur’s had enough and he clears his throat, looking down to see that Morgana’s given him Merlin’s CV.

 

It’s rather impressive for someone who looks like he should still be sitting for his A-Levels and sneaking out of his parent’s windows to go on ill-advised benders. Merlin’s got a Masters in Computer Science, about five security and programming certifications, and a long history of employment with some of the top accounting firms around town. Arthur spares a moment to wonder how Morgana managed to snatch this one from all the head hunters circling the city like vultures on prey, but waves the thought away because the department manager’s probably one of the most terrifying women he’s ever met and would definitely manage more impressive feats than this.

 

“So, do I pass your exacting standards?” Merlin says sardonically, and Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Or do you want to check my birth certificate to see if I was born early enough to accomplish all those things?”

 

“You’re fine,” Arthur says bitingly, and he puts the papers down on his desk to meet Merlin’s glare with his own, cool look. “It’s nice to have you in the team, Mr. Emrys.”

 

The look Merlin shoots him in reply shows Arthur just exactly how the man believes his welcome statement.

 

\--

 

Merlin proves as useful as his CV declares, much to Arthur’s chagrin and to the rest of the team’s utter delight. He takes over the security mishap in the finance department like some sort of bloody programming hero sans cape and spandex suits, and earns the whole floor’s grudging respect over it. Morgana had sauntered in Arthur’s office looking like a cat who’s got a whole barrel of cream and waiting on Arthur’s chair until he’d bitten out a reluctant attempt at congratulating her for her excellent skills on finding brilliant employees at the nick of time.

 

Morgana then tells Arthur that he should definitely watch his back, because that Emrys kid is probably skilled enough to replace his own position in the very near future, if any more problems with the databases continue to persist and clot her office with massive amounts of paperwork and upset account executives.

 

Arthur takes the message at face value, and proceeds to watch Merlin like a bloody hawk, wondering how on earth a yuppie like him could march into a financing firm and wrap everything and everyone around his little finger. Arthur figures he might be exaggerating, because Merlin is just about as earnest as he looks, always eager to help around the department and make friends with anyone who’d give him the time of day, which is just about everybody. He’s especially popular amongst the female population, with his baby face and wide, endearing smiles.

 

In the end, Arthur’s probably the only one who remains visibly unimpressed, seeing as he’s still slightly mortified over that unfortunate first meeting at the rooftop and doesn’t know how to approach Merlin following that. Normally he’d be brushing it off because Arthur is an obstinate professional despite his many faults, but there’s something about Merlin that makes him stay away and just _observe._

It takes Arthur probably another week or so to realise that, well, Merlin might just be the _slightest bit_ attractive, and he’s keeping away just so he’s got all the excuses to stare at the man’s pretty, innocent, smiley face from afar.

 

 _Well,_ Arthur thinks to himself as he slumps in his office following this epiphany, feeling for all the world like a schoolgirl finding out the horrors of crushing on their year’s most popular bloke and not having the slightest chance at getting him to ask her out for the school dance, _on the bright side, you could’ve been arse-over-tit for that friendly intern from Accounting instead._

And for that Arthur is incredibly thankful, because Morgana would probably have his balls on a plate if he ever lets anything like that happen _again._

 

\--

 

The gods must have it in for Arthur, however, because it’s barely another month after that major security bug fiasco when another one creeps up from the pits of programming hell, sending the whole department into a new fit of panic. Arthur gets the full brunt of Morgana’s wrath, of course, and has to arrange a shifting night schedule for his disgruntled team. Arthur takes the initiative and volunteers to stay the first night, him being the team leader and all, and asks about five people to do the same.

 

He doesn’t ask Merlin. Arthur hasn’t said more than single, perfunctory sentences to the bloke ever since that first day in his office, and asking him to stay over the first night seems a bit too familiar for his comfort.

 

Arthur finds the man hovering over his doorway near midnight, nevertheless, carrying two coffee mugs in his hands and biting his lip in slight apprehension.

 

“Mr. Emrys,” Arthur says, leaning away from where he’s hunched over his laptop and peering at Merlin from the darkness of his office. “I don’t recall asking you to work overtime, tonight.”

 

“I’m volunteering,” Merlin says, words clipped and laced with challenge, but he offers Arthur a small grin all the same. “Figured the team could use all the help it can get.”

 

Arthur purses his lips and crosses his arm over his chest. “Doesn’t mean you get to override my authority just so you could show off to your co-workers,” he snaps, valiantly remaining unimpressed. “Overtime schedule requests have to go through the proper channels and you know it.”

 

“Oh, for the love of—” Merlin rolls his eyes, frustrated, and strides into the room, coffee splashing precariously in his mugs and threatening to spill over Arthur’s carpet.

 

“Hey, watch—”

 

“You’re just really determined to be a prat, aren’t you?” Merlin says, ignoring Arthur’s protests and thrusting one warm mug under his nose unceremoniously. “Here, consider this your bloody peace offering. I stayed over because I wanted to talk to you, so stop acting like I’m some kind of dirt under your shoe and get the coffee, _please_.”

 

“I’m not,” Arthur says, but it sounds weak in his ears and Merlin’s expression tells him the same, so he just lets out a sigh and accepts the coffee in defeat. Merlin’s mouth twitches into a smile at that, and he steps back, falling into a chair without waiting for Arthur permission to do so.

 

There’s a few moments of awkward silence before Arthur realises that Merlin is waiting for him to take a sip of the warm beverage. He does, if only to quell the man’s abject staring, and then almost crushes the mug in a valiant effort not to _moan._

“Good, isn’t it?” Merlin says, sounding smug, and Arthur tries to hide the fierce flush of his cheeks from the man’s twinkling gaze. “I’ve been told I make great coffee, enough to convince anyone to stay over for breakfast, apparently.”

 

“Excuse me?” Arthur sputters, not quite believing the implications of Merlin’s words, but man just flashes him an unapologetic grin.

 

“I’m just saying,” Merlin says with a shrug, and sets his own coffee down on Arthur’s desk before he sprawls back on the chair. “So before you kick me out on the first night, you’ll think about my coffee-making skills and decide you want to keep me around, after all.”

 

“I don’t understand, Mr. E—”

 

“Sod that, of course you do,” Merlin snaps, and Arthur puts his own mug down at the angry tone of his voice. “I’ve been asking around, you know. Everyone’s got no idea why you’re acting that way. I mean sure, you’re supposed to keep your distance. You’re the team leader, after all. But you’re always polite—pleasant, even—to everyone else _except me._ Like I’ve got some sort of plague.”

 

“Mr. Emrys, I can assure you—”

 

“Then I thought, _is he like this because he knows I’m gay?_ So I asked around again. All I got in return were people laughing at my strange questions because apparently, you are too, if that affair with the bloke from Accounting is anything to go by.”

 

“They _know_ about that?” Arthur says, alarmed, and Merlin gives him a strange look.

 

“Everyone knows about it. Where the hell have you been this past year? You know what—nevermind. The point is, I’ve been so confused as to why you were so insistent on acting like I sullied your family name or something equally horrendous, until I caught you. Staring at me. Every. Single. Time.”

 

Arthur can’t say anything to that, apparently. Because he’s been doing it, and there’s no way to deny the fact now that Merlin’s caught him at it. He just licks his lips and looks away, a fierce blush tinging his cheeks and praying to whatever deity there is that Merlin wouldn’t punch him for it, or worse, go to Morgana and tell her just exactly what their creep of a boss is doing with her new favourite employee.

 

“Look,” Merlin’s voice breaks through the litany of cursing in his brain, and Arthur looks up to see that he’s stood up from his seat, and is now just a couple of inches away from Arthur’s armchair. Merlin’s palm is planted flat on the desk, and he’s leaning down until he’s about a hair’s breadth away from Arthur’s face. “I’m not saying I mind it, all right? Because—and you need to know this—I really, _really_ don’t.”

 

“Mr. Emrys—”

 

“Merlin,” he breathes out, leaning another centimetre forward until his lips are ghosting over Arthur’s own. “Just call me Merlin.”

 

And with that, he closes the distance and presses his lips against Arthur’s. The wet, firm pressure feels like a gift from the gods, and Arthur barely suppresses the low groan in his throat as he leans forward in response, reaching out a tentative hand to clasp at Merlin’s jumper-clad arm.

 

“This is okay, right?” Merlin whispers against his lips when he pulls away, lashes thick and sweeping against his cheeks and looking every bit as nervous as Arthur feels. “It’s not just me, is it?”

 

“Not just you, _god,_ ” Arthur replies with just a hint of desperation in his voice, and Merlin grins widely before slamming their mouths together again. The kiss this time is needier, more passionate and open-mouthed, and Arthur lets out a bereft groan when Merlin ends it. He opens his eyes to Merlin staring back at him with a look of heated intent in those dark, blue eyes.

 

“Can I taste you?” He says, voice low and promising, and Arthur grips his arm tighter at the words, barely managing a nod. Merlin licks his lips and doesn’t waste any more time before his kneeling at Arthur’s feet, working at the zips of his trousers until he can pull them down around his ankles. Arthur gasps when Merlin frees his cock from where it’s straining against his pants and wraps a hand around the shaft, stripping the hard flesh with firm, precise strokes.

 

“Your hand, Merlin, I—”

 

“Bet my mouth would feel better,” says Merlin with just a hint of cheek, and moves to suck the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the sensitive underside and dragging it up to twirl around the head. Arthur thrusts his hips further into his mouth, seeking more of that intense sensation.

 

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Arthur whimpers when Merlin wraps his lips around his prick in a tight suction and moves down, _slowly,_ until he’s buried to the hilt, the tip of his cock resting against the back of Merlin’s throat. Arthur bites his lip as Merlin swallows around his dick, the muscles of his throat constricting around his tip, and _hums._

He almost lifts off the chair, the vibrations sending tingles up his spine and making him grab Merlin’s dark locks into a death grip. His eyes roll to the back of his head when Merlin starts to move up and down, lips still tightly wrapped around his shaft. His tongue is a wonder in itself, swirling around endlessly and punctuating every hard suck with a slow, burning drag against his frenulum, making Arthur leak copious amounts of precome.

 

Merlin seems to like this, and pulls back to stab his tongue against the slit of Arthur’s cock, as if trying to coax more of that clear liquid out into the open. Arthur can’t stop his moans, his dick growing impossibly hard as Merlin continues to lap at his spurting precome, and he starts gasping out, begging for Merlin to take him in deep until he comes in his warm, tight throat.

 

Merlin gives him one dark, lust-filled look before he goes to do exactly that, swallowing Arthur down and giving him a long, hard suck, his tongue like little licks of fire on his intensely-sensitive underside. Arthur stretches taut and shouts out, flooding Merlin’s mouth with his release.

 

He watches, dazed and awestruck, as Merlin gulps it all down, his throat visibly working as he savours the taste and peers up at Arthur through his dark, thick lashes. He lets his mouth fall open and his tongue sneaks out to lick at his glistening lips, a stark red contrast against his pale, smooth skin. He catches Arthur’s burning gaze and smiles, wide and triumphant.

 

“That was brilliant, eh?” He says, voice cocky yet rough and still tainted with desire, and Arthur realises that Merlin hasn’t even pulled down his trousers yet. He reaches out with the strength he didn’t think he still has and hauls Merlin up, bringing him closer until he’s straddling Arthur’s legs on the armchair.

 

“You just…” Arthur says, still panting for breath, and Merlin laughs, leaning down so their foreheads meet. Arthur grins against his lips and tries again. “You didn’t even take care of yourself.”

 

“Was actually counting on you to do that for me,” Merlin informs him, and bites his bottom lip playfully. “Unless I wore you out with that blowjob?”

 

Deciding to ignore the indirect jibe on Arthur’s stamina (and in relation to it, his age), he just captures Merlin’s lips in another kiss then pushes back on his chest so he could work on opening his trousers. He pushes them down along with his pants and pulls Merlin’s hard, leaking cock free from its confines, pulling down the foreskin to reveal his dark red crown, all glazed over with a thick sheen of precome.

 

“Y—yeah, _please,_ ” Merlin moans out, looking utterly delicious as he writhes in Arthur’s lap, thrusting his cock out as if to offer it. Arthur smiles indulgently and rubs his thumb along the slippery surface of his cock tip, smearing the precome around and causing Merlin’s hips to twitch uncontrollably.

 

He takes a leaf from Merlin’s book and digs one finger into his leaking slit, causing it to dribble out more clear liquid and for Merlin to throw his head back and bare his long, graceful neck for Arthur’s lips to pepper with sucking kisses. Arthur figures there are going to be massive hickeys there tomorrow, but he really can’t bring himself to care, and instead proceeds to make Merlin moan as loud as possible by stripping his cock with long, firm strokes.

 

Arthur keeps his thumb swirling around Merlin’s cockhead all the time, not wanting to release the boy from the intense sensations, and it doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into his fist, come dripping down his hands to stain his thighs, the sight incredibly pornographic and making Arthur’s spent dick twitch between his legs.

 

Merlin’s orgasm face is _beautiful,_ and Arthur knows it’s seared in his mind forever, a burning reminder of this unbelievable office tryst. He comes down from it with a low whine, slumping over Arthur’s chest and burying his head in his neck, panting wetly against his skin and nuzzling it.

 

Arthur can’t help the wave of affection that pours through him in face of such an act. Merlin’s pressing soft, sucking kisses on his jawline as a form of thanks, his hips still not stopping its movements on Arthur’s lap.

 

“Keep doing that and we might need a second performance,” Arthur warns him, voice low with desire and one hand gripping his waist, but Merlin just chuckles against his neck and does another, _slow_ grind against his dick.

 

“Would actually like that,” he murmurs, sounding content, and presses a kiss to Arthur’s jaw. “And a third.” Another kiss. “And a fourth.” And another one. “And a fifth. And probably more. But hopefully just not one night. A bloke could only take so much.”

 

Arthur’s breath hitches at that, and Merlin pulls away a couple of inches to meet his shocked gaze, eyes wide and earnest. “Is…is that all right?”

 

And Arthur finds himself nodding, not able to deny this man anything, not with that look being directed at him, not with the burst of warm emotion threatening to spill from his chest.

 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, after a moment, and Merlin grins, warm and affection. “Yeah, I—I’d definitely like that.”

 

“Might actually stop you from being such a prat if we do it regularly,” Merlin says, trying to sound casual, but he’s got a nervous look in his eyes and Arthur has to chuckle, grabbing his neck and pulling him in for another kiss, both to shut him up and to reassure him that, yes. This is definitely going to be a regular thing.

 

And not even the threat of Morgana’s wrath is enough to discourage them from doing it.

 

\--


End file.
